


All I Want for Christmas Is You

by krsive



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: A/B/O, Alpha Rick Sanchez, Anal Sex, Breeding Kink, Christmas, Claiming, Incest, Knotting, M/M, Manipulation, Masturbation, Omega Morty Smith, Omegaverse, Secret Santa, a/b/o but it's soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:41:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28309152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krsive/pseuds/krsive
Summary: Rick gets exactly what he wants for Christmas. So does Morty.Written for the 2020 Secret Santa event!
Relationships: Rick Sanchez/Morty Smith
Comments: 10
Kudos: 145





	All I Want for Christmas Is You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [StormClouds](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StormClouds/gifts).



> Hi guys! I hope you all enjoy this, especially my Secret Santa!
> 
> Edit: Exactly 100 kudos right now! Thank you all so much for reading and leaving feedback, and to future readers, I hope that you like it, too!!!

_Where was it, where was it_?!?! Morty was in the middle of tearing his room apart for the third time. He had dumped out his backpack, rifled his bedside table, and sifted through every one of his desk drawers. He even searched under his bed and in the closet. The little clamshell of his heat suppressant pills was missing. He was sure he'd had them just yesterday. He _never_ missed a dose. Things were bad enough at school without everyone knowing for sure that he was an Omega. He would have to be sequestered from the rest of the student body until his heat was over to protect him from Alphas. This was so, so bad.

It was useless. The meds clearly weren't in here. Drooping, shuffling his feet, Morty dragged himself to the bathroom. He didn't have much hope left, but there was still a little. If someone in the family found the pills maybe they had stowed them here. He opened the medicine cabinet and began his search anew.

"Whatcha doing? Taking a shit with the door open? Kinky." 

"Aw c'mon, Rick, just lay off, ok?" Morty looked over his shoulder, trying to school his expression into nonchalance. Rick was leaning against the door jamb, casually drinking out of his flask. It pissed Morty off. Rick wouldn't give two shits about Morty's problems. "I'm seriously not in the mood to deal with your bullshit right now."

"My--my _bullshit_ , Morty? Is that any way to talk to your _grandpa_ , Morty?" 

"Fuck off, Rick." 

Morty stubbornly went back to searching the drawers below the bathroom counter. It quickly became clear that his pills weren't here, either.

"Ooh, big man now, Mortimer?" Rick followed him as he brushed past and headed downstairs. "Strong words from the little bitch of the family." 

"Strong words from a washed up old has-been alcoholic," Morty grumbled.

"You wanna repeat that?" 

"Not really. If your hearing aid’s not working, that’s n-not on me."

Morty hurried away from Rick--from one uncomfortable confrontation to another. His mother sat at the kitchen table under the bright ceiling lights to stave off the long shadows of early evening. She had technical journals spread in front of her, attention flitting from one to another with the speed of a hummingbird. Rick was mercifully silent behind him. He had been on his best behavior since the incident with his daughter. Daughters. Morty had been banking on it. Now he only had one difficult conversation in his immediate future. Not that Rick wouldn't be up his ass about this, but it was a problem for future-Morty. Still, he was wringing his hands and taking far too long to speak up. Beth finally sighed and flicked her eyes up from her reading and then back down.

"What is it, Morty? Mommy's kind of busy right now."

That didn't exactly help Morty's confidence. "I'm really sorry, mom. Super sorry. I kinda lost my heat suppression meds,” he said, rushing through the pertinent information. His guts felt tight.

"Sweetie, please just spit it out, ok?" Beth said wearily.

She wasn’t even paying attention to him. Morty’s heart felt so heavy. "I lost my heat suppressants." 

Beth pinched the bridge of her nose, finally dragging herself away from her papers. "Do you know how expensive those are? Are you sure you've looked everywhere? Insurance won't cover a refill until three weeks from now."

"I looked everywhere like three times. Can't we just--just this one time--" 

"Morty, it's almost Christmas. There's no room in the budget for two thousand dollars of medication. You're just going to have to be homeschooled for a few weeks."

Homeschooled. It sounded like a nightmare. Home all day, the rope in a tug of war between his useless dad and his narcissistic grandfather. More than usual. Morty was toast. If he survived three straight weeks in the Smith household it would be a miracle. He drooped as if he could physically feel the weight of his future draped around him like fucking Jacob Marley's chains. 

Yeah, he did his homework _sometimes_.

“Isn’t it about time for you to be looking for a mate, anyway? You’re almost out of high school. Your father was younger than you when he stopped taking his pills.”

“And look how that worked out.” Morty turned and saw that his sister had wandered into the conversation. “Mom, there’s a Christmas dance at school next Tuesday night; I’m going. I need a new dress.”

Beth let out a longsuffering sigh. “Fine, Summer. We’ll go shopping this weekend.”

“She gets a new dress b-b-but there’s no money for my _important medicine_?”

“Yes, Morty, that’s what I’m saying,” Beth said sternly. 

He knew better than to argue back to his mother. She had gone from strict to tyrannical ever since meeting her other self. He just muttered an agreement and headed back upstairs, leaving his mom and Rick to discuss something in hushed tones. It wasn't even worth eavesdropping. He wasn't in the mood to listen to boring grown-up shit when his own life was ending. He pitched forward onto his face on his bed groaned, enjoying a good old fashioned wallow in self pity.

The only silver lining? Rick left him alone for the rest of the evening. Morty spent most of it on support subreddits for Omegas. They were mostly useless, full of vapid sympathizers and shitty advice. Still, it felt better to be around others who shared his curse in life, even if they were all online. At school, everyone but the most cocky Alphas were just trying to pass as Betas to escape undue notice. Sticking out in high school was a great way to get your shit kicked in by the type of Alpha who thought that their status made them better than everyone else. There was no Omega Pride month. Not in high school. Morty just considered himself cursed, a shameful Omega born into a family of Betas. Even Rick, that arrogant son of a bitch, was a Beta. Clearly not everyone was defined by their role. At least Morty would be safe at home. _Relatively_ safe. Rick and Jerry might kill him. But, being realistic, that was far less awful than what would happen to an Omega in heat out in the wider world. Better to be stuck indoors than claimed. 

The week passed slowly. Morty wasn't really in the mood for adventures, and by some miracle Rick didn't drag him on any. He split his time between tinkering in the garage and occasionally eavesdropping on Morty's lessons to mock Jerry's complete misunderstanding of basic high school subject matter. Morty might not be the best at school, but even he knew that Shakespeare didn't write the Declaration of Independence. He still didn't think it was nice of Rick to laugh at his dad over claiming that he did, though. 

When it snowed on Thursday, Jerry declared a snow day and made Morty spend hours and hours out in the freezing cold helping string up the lights. Or rather, out in the cold untangling the hopelessly knotted strings of lights while his father idled on the ladder pontificating on the best way to cook a holiday ham. Normally Morty loved Christmas, but this year it was shaping up to be a miserable affair, and he couldn’t get excited about the huge flakes swirling down and peppering him with white glitter, nor the cheerful colors of the decorations once they finally got the fairy lights working.

By the beginning of the second week, Morty's heat started. He woke up the Tuesday before Christmas feeling feverish, whimpering as the blankets brushed over the most sensitive erection of his young life. He rolled onto his side and curled in on himself. Tears pooled in his eyes as he wrapped his hand around his shaft and began to frantically pump himself. It felt criminally good. Too good. So good that it was almost painful; so good that he didn’t think he was going to be able to stand it long enough to push himself to climax.

He closed his eyes and listened to his own uneven breathing. He traipsed down familiar paths in his mind, sampling his fantasies like the varied scents of a flower garden. He knew from the beginning, though, what he was going to settle on. There was only one fantasy that he cared about anymore, and he had worn it smooth with use by now.

 _Rick_. 

Morty imagined himself on his knees in front of his grandfather like a supplicant before a throne. He was grinning that infuriating smirk down at him, but his rough fingers were gentle where they tangled in Morty’s curls. Morty could imagine the musky, masculine scent of Rick’s arousal as he thought about what it would be like to open his mouth and let--

“Yo, Morty! You ever gonna get up, bro? Your dad is up my ass to make sure you eat something.”

Morty’s eyes flew open in horror to find that Rick had let himself into his room. _Of course_ he had--that was just Morty’s fucking luck, wasn’t it? He saw Rick stiffen for a moment, then relax into an attitude of smug self-satisfaction.

“Rick! You have to knock!” Morty meant to sound forceful and indignant, but it came out as a petulant whine.

Rick sauntered over and stood towering above him in a breathtaking replica of Morty’s fantasy. He reached out his hand as if he were going to touch him. Morty held his breath, his heart thrumming in his throat. He could smell motor oil and Rick’s cheap soap and some deep scent that he didn’t recognize. Something so _Rick_ that Morty couldn’t even name it. Then Rick was putting his hands in his pockets and the moment was over.

“I don’t have to do shit. Now get out of bed and march your ass downstairs,” Rick said. His voice was pitched low, husky with some unspoken emotion.

“ _Rick_ ,” Morty whimpered. He looked up at him, imploring. “Can’t I get, you know, a little pr-privacy?”

“I’m waiting, Morty.” Rick crossed his arms over his chest and took a single step away from the bed to give Morty just a little room to maneuver.

Rick had humiliated him before, but this was on another level. There was a sense of immense pressure behind his burning face as he fought to keep back tears. He pulled his boxers back up his hips and cautiously peeled back his blankets. The outline of his erection showed in perfect detail through the thin fabric. Fuck Rick. Fuck the arrogant bastard all the way to hell. As he set his feet on the floor, Morty swore to himself that he would never speak to him again. He couldn’t believe he’d just been thinking of him _that_ way. Morty deserved better than this shriveled up old prick. He could feel Rick’s eyes on him as he dragged himself to his dresser to put on clean clothes for the day.

“Geez, Rick, d-do you have to--do you really need to watch me get dressed?” Morty griped, his back to his grandfather. He heard the metallic slosh of Rick’s ever-present flask. “Isn’t it a little early to start drinking?” _You old lush_.

“Isn’t it a little early to be shaking hands with the milkman?”

“To what?” Fully clothed, Morty turned back toward Rick. His jeans were so restricting of his tender cock that he thought he would lose his mind, but he defiantly looked Rick in the face.

Rick rolled his eyes. “Masturbation, Morty. Beating the Bishop. Jacking the beanstalk. Wanking. You really think that’s what I wanted to see first thing in the morning?”

“You wouldn’t have seen anything if you’d knocked!”

“Since when do I have to knock, Morty?”

“Since always!”

“Seems like you have some misapprehensions about who your ass belongs to. _I own you_ , Morty.”

Fuck, why did Rick have to put it that way? His words went straight to Morty’s dick. He tried to remind himself that he was furious, and that humping his grandfather’s thigh would only make things worse.

“Whatever strokes your e-ego, Rick,” Morty grumbled, pushing past his grandfather on the way out of his room. He could have sworn that Rick leaned in as he passed and took a deep breath. Like he was _sniffing_ him. He gave him a sideways look, but didn’t catch his eye. How weird.

Even weirder, Rick disappeared into his garage for the rest of the day. He didn’t even come out for meals. He didn’t come out to make Jerry stop blaring ‘The Little Drummer Boy’ through the whole house all day. He didn’t come out to make Morty uncomfortable again. _Good riddance_ , Morty thought bitterly. 

Morty’s resolve lasted until precisely 7 PM. Once he was finished putting the dinner dishes in the dishwasher, Morty paced around the kitchen psyching himself up. He had to talk to Rick. He couldn’t take his heat for another minute longer. He would get down on his knees and beg if he had to--anything to make Rick have a heart and use his science to _make it stop_. Rick would take pity on him. He had to. They were Rick and Morty. Rick and Morty 100 years. Rick might be an asshole sometimes. Ok, a lot of the time. But when it counted, Rick had never let him down. He shouldn’t have been Morty’s hero, but he was. Morty couldn’t take another day of this misery. He squeezed his hands into tight fists. He could do this. He could make Rick see sense.

Before he could completely psych himself out, he pushed his way into the garage. Rick was hunched over his work bench putting the finishing touches on his nano-matrix antimatter generator. He’d been talking about the stupid thing all week at dinner, and Morty still had no idea what it was supposed to do. Rick never really saw fit to explain his technobabble in a way that the rest of the family could understand. It made Morty feel unvalued and stupid. He would never measure up to someone like Rick. He would never _matter_ to Rick. He was like an ant before a giant. His resolve was starting to waver. Why had he thought that Rick would help him? His problems meant nothing to his grandfather. He started to turn back towards the door when Rick spoke up.

“Shit or get off the pot, Morty. What do you want?”

Not for the first time, Morty felt like Rick had eyes in the back of his head. Sure, Morty was usually the one who came uninvited into this sanctum, but Rick seemed so sure it was him before even looking up. He wrung his hands in front of himself and took a deep breath.

“Rick, I need your h-h-h-h-help.”

Rick held up his hand and made a circular gesture. “Come on, out with it. I’m busy, here, in case you didn’t notice.”

“I’m in my heat and it’s so fucking miserable. Please, can’t you do some science shit and just make it go away? It’s really b-bad.” Despite himself, Morty was starting to cry a little.

Rick finally spun towards him in his rolling chair. He crossed his arms, appraising Morty as he chewed on his lip thoughtfully. “‘Do some science shit?’ I dunno, Morty, that sounds kinda disrespectful. Is that really how you want to ask?”

Morty bit down on his lip hard to keep himself from screaming. Why was Rick being an even bigger dickbag than usual today? Didn’t he have any human sympathy? “Please, Rick? I’m really hurting, here. Y-You’re a genius, I know you can figure something out.” Morty clasped his hands in front of him. “Please, Rick. I’ll do anything.”

“Anything?”

“Anything,” Morty promised immediately, not even giving it a second thought. It was dangerous to owe Rick a favor, but just then Morty really would have done anything to feel better.

“Go inside, watch TV and try to calm down. I’ll be in soon with _exactly_ what you need.”

“Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“Stop fucking groveling and get out of my face, Morty. I can’t concentrate with you in here.”

Morty didn’t want to jinx it, so he scrambled back into the house before Rick could change his mind.

Hours passed, and one by one the other Smiths went to bed. None of them seemed to notice Morty’s distress as he sat curled up by one arm of the couch trying not to cry. He was just thankful that the family had turned the living room light off before sitting down to watch TV so that they could enjoy the Christmas tree lights. It was easier to hide his overwhelming feelings in the dim, lit only by the tree and the flashing lights of the television screen. How long was Rick going to take? He wanted to go ask, but he was afraid to piss him off. Rick was mercurial at the best of times, and today he was being a real asshole. He didn’t want to jinx it, so he sat in the dark by himself after Summer took off mumbling a goodnight. 

Images flickered across the screen, but Morty didn’t see them anymore. He was drowning in his own misery. So when Rick dropped onto the couch beside him, Morty almost jumped out of his own skin. He hadn’t heard Rick come in from the garage, much less noticed him getting close enough to box Morty in by the arm of the couch. Rick threw his arm over the back of the couch like he usually did when he watched TV. Morty was inundated with his scent just as he had been that morning. There was something about it that made him weak at the knees. He drew his legs up to try and hide his burgeoning erection. He chanced a glance at Rick out of the corner of his eye. His grandpa was just watching the television and sipping at his flask. Morty worried at his lip. They were so close together. Practically touching. It was complete torture, especially considering that he was absolutely surrounded by Rick’s heady musk.

“R-Rick?” he ventured. His voice cracked.

“Hmm?”

“Did you--did you invent a...a _th-thing_ for me?” he asked, daring to hope. 

“I told you I’d have everything you need when I came in, Morty.”

Morty waited, watching Rick as the television lights danced across his stoic face.

“Well?” Morty prompted when it seemed clear that Rick wasn’t going to go on.

Rick grabbed the remote and flicked the TV off. The two could barely see each other in the colorful light of the Christmas tree, but Rick’s wicked smirk was impossible to miss. The breath caught in Morty’s throat as Rick leaned in front of him, bracing his hand on the arm of the couch and trapping him in his seat.

“What do you really need, Morty? What is your body yearning for right now?” Rick murmured lowly in Morty’s ear.

“I-I-I-I-I…”

“I’ll tell you, since you’ve evidently forgotten how to speak English. What you _really_ need is an Alpha to claim you.”

“Aw, geez, Rick,” Morty said in sudden terror, “you’re not selling me to--”

Rick growled, and Morty cut himself off with a tiny yelp, quaking at the threat of violence that spilled from the wild noise. He pressed himself as far back into the corner as he could, but Rick just moved with him.

“You haven’t been paying attention, moron.You’re _mine_. You always have been, and you always will be.”

“But Rick, you’re a Beta. You c-can’t--”

“Wrong. I told your stupid parents I’m a stupid Beta so they’d let me move in and take their idiot Omega son on adventures. You know, I’ve got to hand it to you, though; you’ve always been really religious about those stupid pills. So I had to take matters into my own hands.”

Morty stiffened. “Rick?”

Rick was hovering so close to him. Morty could smell the rum on his breath, and smell that musk he had noticed earlier. It struck him all at once what it was--the unfiltered scent of an Alpha. Rick had been taking hormone blockers for _years_ , then, just like Morty had. No one in the family had even suspected.

“Y-Y-Y-Y-You stole my meds.” The picture was becoming clearer to Morty. He stared into Rick’s intense, icy eyes that reflected the thousand points of light from the Christmas tree. “You planned this.”

“You didn’t leave me much choice.” Rick slid to the floor, kneeling between Morty’s legs. He reached up and took Morty’s face between his hands. “I’ve been going crazy, baby. Waiting for you.”

“You manipulated me,” Morty said. He was trying to be angry about it. He really was. He put his hands on Rick’s wrists, but he didn’t pull him away.

In the background, Jerry’s Christmas clock struck the hour, the high tinkling notes of Silent Night filling the air. There was something peaceful about the night despite the tension between Rick and Morty.

“I want you,” Rick said, his voice just above a whisper. “I’ve wanted you for so long.”

Morty wavered between emotions, a weathervane buffeted by the wind. He should be furious. He was furious. But he was also putty in Rick’s hands as his grandfather drew him closer by a firm grasp on the nape of his neck. Morty trembled as he fell into Rick’s gravity easily, easier than breathing. Rick grasped Morty’s wrists and leaned back, gently pulling Morty along with him. Morty didn’t resist. They lay on the carpet together, Morty straddling Rick’s hips, their chests moving in tandem as they simply breathed. Rick’s scent was all around him, irresistibly strong. Morty whimpered and buried his face in the crook of Rick’s neck.

Rick shifted beneath him. Calloused fingers swept Morty’s curls aside. His eyes went impossibly wide as he felt Rick's coarse stubble nuzzling against him, and then the sudden sting of fangs piercing his delicate skin. It hurt; it hurt far more than Morty had expected it to, but that didn’t matter right now. There was only one thing that actually mattered.

Rick wanted to claim him.

“But…” Morty heard himself saying. He shuddered as he felt Rick lapping gently at the bite, licking away the blood that was surely beading there. “But R-Rick...the _family_.”

“Fuck ‘the family,’ Morty.” Rick nipped at the shell of Morty’s ear. “Rick and Morty, 100 years. We don’t need anyone but us.”

Rick’s hands crept up the back of Morty’s shirt, lovingly tracing the curve of his spine. No one had ever touched Morty that way before, and it made him shiver and moan into Rick’s shoulder. Rick chuckled softly, his chest rumbling beneath Morty’s. His hips rocked without his permission, grinding against Rick’s as his body began to show distinct interest.

“You’re easy,” Rick said fondly.

“Shut up.” The world lurched. Morty was rolled onto his back, Rick’s weight bearing down on him. Morty was still curled into him, his eyes pressed tightly closed.

“Look at me, Morty.” Rick’s voice was quiet and steady. “C’mon, look at me.”

Morty cautiously laid his head back and opened his eyes. His heart skipped a beat. Rick’s expression was unguarded, hopeful. The Christmas tree twinkled behind his head, casting a glow like a halo over his wild hair.

“If you tell me you don’t want me, I’ll go back out to the garage, take my pills, and drink until I forget this ever happened. Sure, I wanted to stack the deck but I’m not gonna--”

“Rick, shut up. I want you, ok? I really, really want you.”

Morty twined his arms around Rick's neck. His whole body was shaking as he pulled his grandfather down toward himself. He tilted his head and fearfully touched his mouth to Rick's neck, just below his jaw. He could feel his pulse racing beneath his lips. Rick turned his head a little further and presented his nape. Morty timidly touched his teeth to the old man's skin. Neither of them breathed for a weighty moment. Finally, Morty gathered all his courage and bit down. His mouth filled with the salty tang of blood, wresting a muffled moan from deep inside of him. He could never have imagined anything as intimate as this moment. Rick on his tongue, Morty's nose buried in his scent--even Rick's hiss of pain in his ear seemed like a secret shared between just them.

Rick reared back up, and the two stared at each other in the artificial starlight of the Christmas tree.

"Have you ever…" Morty began, but he faltered.

"No," Rick answered anyway. 

"With grandma?"

"No."

"Why?"

Rick leaned close, so close that Morty could feel hot breath against his lips. "I have to have you, Morty. Now I own you. Do you understand, you little shit? You'll never escape me."

"You, too, Rick," Morty dared to whisper. "You'll never get away from--"

Rick crashed their mouths together in a sudden rush of passion that knocked the breath out of Morty. He tried to keep up, but he could feel himself stiffening up and ruining the kiss. He didn't know what to do with his tongue, and he was overly conscious of his teeth. Rick pulled back to murmur against his lips.

"Relax," he soothed. "Don't think about it."

Rick came for him more slowly this time. He stroked Morty's curls while he kissed him, jaw working. Morty became entranced by the wet slide of their lips. Rick waited until tension seeped out of Morty's body and then pushed his tongue past Morty's softly parted lips. Morty let Rick explore his mouth. Rick's hips rolled against his own and he pressed back eagerly, rutting against the heat of Rick's body. Morty was soon achingly hard, his nethers growing wet with slick and beads of precome. He pulled at Rick's shirt, both hands fisted in the soft, worn fabric. His grandfather sensed his growing desperation. He threw his weight onto one hip just to the side of Morty’s and splayed his large hand over Morty's soft belly, fingertips questing beneath his waistband. Leaving Morty's lips, he nuzzled against his ear and spoke to him in a low rumble.

"You're going to look so good with my pups in you." 

Morty felt himself color. He hid his flushed face in his hand, a humiliated whine rising from his chest. Rick really wanted that? "Aw, geez, Rick. I don't know about that."

"Gonna fuck you every day and watch you swell." Rick's fingers crept lower and lower until they brushed against Morty's swollen cockhead. Morty arched and keened. Coherent thought was leeching out of him. He was charmed like a snake by the sound of Rick's voice and the caress of his hand on Morty's virgin skin. "Everyone's going to know who you belong to."

"You," Morty whimpered. "You, Alpha."

"Good boy." 

Rick popped open the button of Morty's jeans, and Morty eagerly worked them down and off. While he wrestled his shirt over his head Rick pressed rough kisses across his pelvis, from hip to hip just below his navel. Morty was overcome at the sight, his grandfather relaxed and open for once. He timidly reached down and touched Rick's hair. When Rick rewarded him with a soft sigh Morty wriggled beneath him, tickled by the puff of breath. Rick held him still by a heavy grasp on his hip. Morty's fingers were emboldened even as his breath fled, though, because now Rick was kissing his unhurried way lower. He breathed on Morty's cock and chuckled when it twitched. Morty barely heard. His back was arched in a perfect bow, his hips pitching forward and back over and over.

"God, your _scent_ ," Rick groaned, his nose buried in Morty's scant pubic hair. "It's been driving me insane all day. Fuck, Morty, I'm so hard for you right now, baby."

Rick licked Morty's cock from base to tip. He took him into his mouth and ran the tip of his tongue around the head while Morty sobbed and whined without thought. He thrust forward and Rick let him invade his mouth until he felt Rick swallow around his sensitive glans. He was losing his mind, overcome by pleasure so complete that it had him seeing heaven. 

Two fingers teased the cleft of his ass. He groaned and parted his thighs farther. His hole was wet with slick and he was desperate to be mated. The slow glide of penetration multiplied his ecstasy. He pawed blindly at his own body, at Rick's hair, at anything he could reach.

"Please, Rick, please, I'm so close. Please, I need you inside me now. I can't wait anymore, I can't, I can't."

Rick let Morty slip out of his mouth and huffed a soft laugh at the whine that leaked out of the boy. "Gimme your hand, baby." Rick guided Morty's palm to the bulge in his trousers. He hissed approvingly as Morty eagerly groped him through the coarse canvas. "Feel that? _All_ of that is going inside you. If I don't prep you I'll tear you in half."

Morty traced the outline of Rick's cock with curious fingertips. He'd seen it before, albeit flaccid, but the context here changed everything. Morty was suddenly self conscious about his own modest offering. Rick had to be easily 9 inches, and thick, too. He was right. Morty would break. But, as frightened as he was, Morty couldn't stifle his immense _need_. He focused on the way Rick's erection scalded his palm and tried to relax. He liked the little sounds of encouragement he was wringing from Rick, growls and groans and half-voiced curses. He spoke them into Morty's skin in a rush of warm breath and slipped another finger inside of him. Morty palmed Rick's cheek with his empty hand and led him willingly closer. They found each other's lips again and fell breathlessly tumbling into a ravenous kiss. Morty moaned into it, helpless as he let Rick’s velvet tongue ravish his mouth and those clever fingers open him up from the inside.

Then Rick was rolling him onto his stomach. The soft jangle of Rick's belt buckle made goosebumps stand out on Morty's arms. It was followed swiftly by the quiet rustle of fabric. Morty eagerly pushed himself up onto his hands and knees, but Rick's firm palm on the back of his neck pushed him down until his cheek was grinding against the carpet.

"Ass...up. Higher." Rick adjusted Morty's posture until he was satisfied. Morty could practically feel praise radiating out of his hand as it ran up and down his flank. His back was sloping steeply now, his knees wide apart, his thighs wet with his own fluids. He felt Rick pull aside his ass cheek and dip his thumb back inside of him. “Beautiful.”

The thumb was quickly replaced by the much softer, much hotter head of Rick’s cock. A long whine leaked out of him as his mind split itself from desperate anticipation and fear of pain. Rick spread him wide open with both hands. Morty howled out as Rick pushed inside of him. He felt his body being stretched and stretched, Rick disappearing into him so slowly. Too slowly.

“Please, Rick, please fuck me, _please_.” His mind went spinning out, searching for something to latch onto to goad Rick into giving him what he wanted. “ _Breed_ me.”

“You sassy little fucker,” Rick growled. “You little Omega bitch. I’m gonna fill you up. You’re gonna take my seed and take my knot whether you like it or not, get it? Breed you? Oh, baby, I was already planning on it.”

His uneven nails bit into Morty’s hips as he held him still. He slammed into him. Morty screamed into the carpet, drool pooling on the fibers beneath him. Rick was reaming him now, pushing the breath out of him in a rush.

“I’m sorry,” Morty sobbed. This was far, far too much; he hadn’t bargained for this overwhelming sensation. He twisted this way and that, but Rick’s merciless grasp held his hips still. “Rick!”

“That’s right, baby! I wanna hear you.”

“Rick! I can’t! I can’t!”

Rick’s hand snaked around Morty’s throat. He hauled him upright by his tight grip, pulling his back against his chest. Morty had to fight for each breath. His body was filling up with a cocktail of panic and pleasure that had his cock throbbing and dribbling impotent slick. He could feel Rick breathing, both of them sweaty and sticking together. Rick was still fucking him steadily. He breathed hot into Morty’s ear.

“You don’t get it, do you, Morty? _I’m_ your Alpha now. You don’t get to say ‘I can’t.’ You take what I want to give you.”

Rick let go of his throat, and Morty sucked down cool air. Somehow Rick had made him feel grateful for _being allowed to breathe_. He was working up some righteous anger when Rick laved his tongue over the claiming bite he had left on Morty’s neck. Morty moaned loudly. Rick took Morty’s shaft in his hand and began to pump it in time with his thrusts. Tears were pouring down Morty’s cheeks, his breath hitching as he began to cry, utterly overwhelmed.

“You’re even better than I imagined, Morty.” Morty could feel Rick’s voice rumbling through his back. “I’ve been thinking about this for a _long_ time.” He nuzzled into Morty’s hair and took a deep inhale of his scent. “What do you think your family is going to think of you when they find out you let your grandfather claim you, hm, baby?”

“I don’t care, I don’t care!” Morty let his head fall back against Rick’s shoulder, his back curved like a bow. “Please use me, Alpha!”

“That’s much better. You’re getting the hang of it.”

“I’m gonna come,” Morty wailed. “Rick! I’m--I’m--”

“Not yet, not yet,” Rick groaned. “I’m close, baby. I’m so close.”

But it was too late. Morty’s whole body jerked in Rick’s arms. He wept as his grandfather’s hand stroked him all the way through the most intense climax he had ever felt. His thighs twitched and trembled, his chest heaved. He couldn’t see straight. His whole body felt like it was full of warm syrup, pleasant and hazy. He could feel his pulse in his dick as he emptied onto the carpet.

Rick pulled out of him and he slumped bonelessly to the side. He let himself be manhandled onto his back, barely helping at all as Rick hoisted his legs over his shoulders. He mewled when Rick pushed back into him, a last trickle of slick wrung from his cock as Rick punched into his overstimulated prostate. 

“Tell me you want my pups,” Rick growled.

“Rick, _no_ , please--I--” Rick’s fingers tightened on his thighs. Morty thought better of arguing. “Please, Rick, please, I-I-I-I want your..want your pups,” Morty stammered, almost too shy to get the words out now that he was sobering up.

Morty counted the passage of time in his own whimpers and the curses Rick snarled out above him. He didn’t feel it when Rick came, only knew it because he was suddenly impossibly full when Rick’s knot swelled up inside of him. Rick dropped forward, bracing himself on shaking arms on either side of Morty’s head.

“Oh, geez, R-Rick. How long--”

“Hope you’re comfortable,” Rick said with a weak chuckle.

He lowered himself onto Morty with care. They kissed. Morty was sure he would never get tired of Rick’s kisses.

“Rick?”

“Hm?” 

“You d-d-didn’t mean it, d-did you? About, y’know… _pups_?”

“Morty, when have you ever known me to say something I didn’t mean?”

“B-b-b-b-b-but!”

“‘B-b-but,’” Rick mimicked. He snorted. “I’ll take care of you, baby. It’ll be good. You’ll see.”

Morty stared at the ceiling and let Rick kiss his neck. Their scents had mingled together into a heady perfume that swelled his heart. Maybe it would be ok. Rick was his Alpha. Yeah, sure, Morty was beholden to him now in ways that he wasn’t before, but Rick had taken on obligations to Morty, too. He was right--he would take care of him. He had to take care of him. Right? Morty put his arms around Rick, who sighed contentedly and kissed his cheek.

“Rick?”

“Oh, for go-- _what_ , Morty?”

“Merry Christmas.”

“Yeah, Morty. Merry Christmas.”


End file.
